


Airplanes

by moonstalker24



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Disney's Paperman AU, M/M, Romance, fluffies, paper airplanes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstalker24/pseuds/moonstalker24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yumitadashi on Tumblr said "Disney's Paperman Steter AU" and I had to.</p><p>Basically, what it says on the box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airplanes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotAKangaroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAKangaroo/gifts).



> Yumitadashi said I could, and I couldn't not. The idea was too cute not to!
> 
> I watched the short while I wrote this. Enjoy!

**Airplanes**

 

After graduation Stiles gets a job in the city. It’s just a crappy internship at the Bay Mirror*, but it’s his crappy internship. The Bay Mirror is one of San Francisco’s most prominent newspapers, and if Stiles wants to be a writer, he’s gotta work his way up. So it may be a crappy internship with crappy coffee, a crappy boss and crappy, downtrodden fellow interns (few of whom he can stand), but it’s his.

 

He shares an apartment with Scott and Allison. It was a bad idea, what with their on-again-off-again relationship… but he couldn’t afford to rent a place by himself and the idea of rooming with someone whose bad habits he isn’t familiar with is just bad juju. So he puts up with the lovey dovey, and he deals with the fighting.

 

And he rides the trolley to work everyday.

 

Stiles loves the trolley. They’re the best thing about the city in his opinion. Everyday he gets to ride this awesome thing that is like a subway but doesn’t smell like one because they’re exposed to open air. It’s nice.

 

He sees him every morning almost. They ride the same trolley downtown. He never looks up. Not from his paperwork or his tablet or his phone. Never. But Stiles thinks that he’s beautiful. Tall, brown hair, cheekbones that could cut glass. Always dressed in a suit and tie. He’s all muscle and liquid strength where Stiles is a lanky beanpole. Don’t get Stiles wrong, he’s strong, but looking at him you wouldn’t be able to tell.

 

He’s got gorgeous eyes. Blue and fierce. Stiles has dreams about those eyes.

 

One day he’s gonna get up the guts to talk to him.

 

It’s a windy day in March when it happens. Stiles is standing, waiting for the trolley, clutching a folder of fact checked papers in his arms when a single sheet goes floating past his face. He stares in surprise, shrugs, and then jumps when the blue eyed man he’d been drooling over for weeks now went dashing past after the paper. He managed to catch it and came back to stand near Stiles, tucking the sheet away in his briefcase.

 

Stiles didn’t realize he was staring until the man looked up and their eyes caught. Stiles looked away, embarrassed at being caught.

 

That was when the wind picked up a sheet from his own folder and it flew across the gap between them and smacked the other man in the face. Stiles went red and reached out, taking the paper back. The man’s blue eyes blinked open and they stared at each other for a moment before the man smirked a little and huffed in amusement. Stiles turned to look at what he was laughing at and snickered himself.

 

The sheet that had struck him was one that Stiles had drawn a big red monster with angry eyes across the bottom half.

 

When he looked back up the man was gone.

 

Stiles turned as the trolley pulled away. The man was sitting down in the car. He glanced back, catching Stiles’ eyes one last time before he was gone.

 

It took him a few minutes to realize that he’d missed his trolley and would have to wait for the next one. He was going to be late for work.

 

\- - -

 

He’s right. He’s an hour late for work. He’s basically shoved into his squeaking wheely chair by his boss and a stack of paperwork and articles for fact checking is set down on his desk with an ominous sounding thud. Stiles sighs and takes the top sheet off the stack. Looking at it for a minute he stares blankly.

 

So this is what he gets for being late, huh?

 

A pile of form after form of office supply requisitions and backlogged articles that were passed over for publication to be filed away. Stiles sighs and picks up his pen.

 

After a while his attention drifts. His gaze goes from the increasingly dull form he’s filling out to the open window next to his desk. That’s the best thing about this job. He got the window seat. The view isn’t much, just the side of the office building across the street and the bustling traffic on the street below. No green vistas, nothing to take him away from where he is.

 

But it’s better than nothing.

 

His gaze drifts from window to window until it lands on one that’s open. Stiles’ entire frame freezes for a second, and then he’s flailing out of his seat to plaster himself across the window because he can’t believe his eyes.

 

In the room in the building across the street, through the open window, Stiles can see the beautiful man from this morning. He’s just walked into the room and is shaking hands with someone Stiles can’t see. It’s a meeting of some sort. The blue eyed man is just as beautiful from this far away as he is close up at the trolley stop in the morning.

 

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Stiles turns to see his boss leaning out of his office, glaring. Reluctantly, Stiles sits back down with a frown. His boss goes back to whatever it is that his boss does. His gaze flickers between the window and the man across the street and the paperwork piled up on his desk a few times.

 

It’s time to be brave. Time to actually try to get what he wants. If he happens to make an absolute idiot out of himself in the process, then so be it. Stiles is used to that. He operates in a certain state of embarrassed awkwardness on a daily basis. He can handle this.

 

He gropes at his desk for a moment while he stares out the window. Then, suddenly, there’s a paper airplane in his hand. Stiles had mastered the art of the perfect paper airplane years ago. Years ago in a hospital room, annoying nurses and doctors, but never failing to make his mother smile. It had been the last thing she had ever taught him before she died. The art of the perfect paper airplane.

 

Stiles kissed the airplane, aimed and fired.

 

It was a flop. An epic flop. The airplane sailed out the window and halfway across the street before careening straight down for the traffic below.

 

Oh it was on.

 

The next airplane got all the way across the street before it hit the wall to the left of the window. The third made a jerking motion and plummeted toward the ground because Stiles was jerked around mid-launch. One of the junior editors of the paper forcefully closed the window and Stiles sunk into his seat and watched the self-important blond go into his boss’ office and close the door.

 

Stiles lunged and yanked the window open again.

 

The next plane missed. The next one drifted into the window of an office a floor below where he was aiming. It landed on the desk of a tall, dark haired man with expressive eyebrows. Stiles would think he was gorgeous, but he’d sighted the blue eyed god a story above first. The guy picked up the airplane with a quirk of his expressive eyebrows and glanced out to see where it came from.

 

Stiles waved his arms in a negative motion, shaking his head. That airplane was not meant for this dude. Grumpy-man rolled his eyes, balled up the airplane and chucked it out the window. Then he went back to work.

 

So did Stiles.

 

Plane after plane.

 

Each one just missed its mark. They hit the wall, they hit other windows. One was carried off by a flock of birds. One actually made it into the window only to land in the wastebasket behind the person whose attention he sought.

 

Eventually when he reached back his hand hit nothing. Stiles turned away from the window to find his in basket empty and everyone in the office staring at him. One of the other interns slid his own pile of paperwork further away from Stiles and wrapped his arms around it to try to protect it.

 

Stiles quickly looked out the window. The man looked like he was preparing to leave. A gust of air made a paper on his desk fly up and he quickly pinned it down. He looks at the sheet. The sheet of paper that had started this whole thing and a faint smile tugs at his lips as he looks at the doodled monster with angry eyes that was looking back up at him.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

He folds.

 

Stiles stands at the window, monster airplane in his hand and he knows that this is his last chance. His last sheet of paper. His last airplane.

 

He goes to aim it.

 

A gust of wind flies up around him and tugs the airplane out of his hand. Stiles flails after it, trying to reach it, but it slips out of reach and drifts away on the wind.

 

Across the street the man he’s been silently pining over for months is disappearing behind an office door.

 

A glance into the office shows his coworkers still staring at him like he’s grown two heads and maybe a tail. His boss sticks his head out to glare at them all silently for a moment. All of his fellow interns quickly turn back to their work. Stiles turns back to the widow, looking around wildly until his eyes land on the street several stories down.

 

The man of his dreams is exiting the building that contained the office he’d been in. Stiles quickly turns, determined, only to freeze. Standing there before him is a wiry man in glasses with a glare that could melt the polar ice cap.

 

His boss.

 

In his hands is another stack of forms. This one just as large and daunting as the one Stiles just threw out a fifth floor window. The stack landed on his desk with a thump and Stiles landed in his chair, feeling desolate.

 

A few moments pass. He watches the weasel of a man he works for start to walk away. His eyes flick between the man’s back and the stack of paper before him. Stiles flashes back to the blue eyes that had met his own that morning. To the smile and small huff of laughter he’d received over something so small as a doodle on a piece of paper.

 

He really, really hated this job. He hated his boss. He hated the fact that he was stuck in this room with a bunch of other people who were all equally as frustrated with their lot as he was. His eyes met those of the beautiful strawberry blonde intern that worked for the science editor. If Stiles hadn't spent every morning seeing the beautiful man, he could have fallen in love with her so easily.

 

She gives him a little encouraging smile, a nod and mouths _‘Go’_ at him.

 

Stiles’ mouth thins in determination and right before everyone’s eyes, he bolts. His boss turns with a yell as Stiles bolts from the room and away from what he was sure was a promising career.

 

Hopefully toward something amazing.

 

\- - -

 

Down on the street the tall man with the blue eyes rounds a corner just as Stiles spills out onto the street through a revolving door. He flails his way across the street (nearly getting hit by a bus on his way) and looks around wildly. He looks up the street and down the street, scrunching his hands into his already wild hair as his desperation grows.

 

The man is nowhere to be seen.

 

Stiles’ shoulders slump, and then he sees it.

 

There, sitting innocently atop a blue USPS mailbox is a paper airplane. One with a familiar red monster with angry eyes peeking out of the folds and creases. He grabs it up, frustrated and angry and launches it into the air as he starts to walk down the street, defeated.

 

The airplane drifts through the air. It catches a gust of March air at just the right angle and flies on. It curves up and over the buildings, drifting on the currents of the air until it drifts down, down into a side alley to lay amongst many other paper airplanes. All having been thrown with a single purpose and intent, all of them missing their mark.

 

Then, something happens.

 

The airplane tips. Then it moves, then it drifts into the air like it’s come alive. It floats in a big circle, bouncing to encourage its fellow airplanes to _get up_. They have a mission to complete.

 

They eddy into a big cyclone until Stiles stomps past the entry of the alley, frustrated and alone. Then, one by one, in an orderly line they drift out of the alley after their creator. Each with a bounce to keep to the air.

 

They follow after him in a line, making people stop and stare until the one with the monster pins itself to Stiles’ pant leg like it’s got a sudden case of static electricity. He shakes it off. It returns with several friends.

 

Two or three times they do this, until Stiles has been overcome with paper airplanes that propel him across the street (he nearly gets hit by a bus, _again_ ). They propel him down the road and the one that had started it all, the one with the silly little monster with angry eyes in red, speeds ahead.

 

It flies down the street, blowing postcards off a street kiosk until it lands on a table covered in a red checkered tablecloth. At the table sits a man with blue eyes. He looks down at the airplane in surprise. He does a double-take as he spots the little monster he’d actually found quite adorable (with its equally endearing owner).

 

The airplane flies off the table of its own accord.

 

Out of curiosity, and no little wonder, the man, Peter, follows it. He chases it down the street. Up some stairs and onto a trolley car. The airplane stops, and Peter picks it up, staring.

 

On a different street Stiles is caught up in all the other airplanes. He’s moved around corners as he tries to fight his way free. He is pushed onto a trolley and into a seat. He crosses his arms after he tries to get up and fails. Next to him a child covered in chocolate stains, holding a balloon stares at him and his paper airplane blanket.

 

The two trolleys stop at the same stop. Peter gets off the trolley, bouncing the airplane lightly, wondering if it is going to fly on its own again.

 

Wind gusts up around the street and several airplanes drift past Peter’s feet. He stares at them for a moment and then looks around, wondering. Then he turns to look at the trolley across from his.

 

Standing there, covered in airplanes is a gangly young man with wild dark hair that Peter had thought was so adorable this morning. The man is staring at him with wide amber eyes. Then he takes a few steps toward Peter, shaking off the airplanes.

 

Then the two are standing in front of each other.

 

They both glance at the airplane still clutched in Peter’s hand.

 

“Hi” Stiles says softly, bashful and uncertain.

 

Peter smiles “Hello.”

 

_… fin …_

 

**Author's Note:**

> * The Bay Mirror is the fictional newspaper that Phoebe Halliwell worked for in later seasons of Charmed. I just marathoned Charmed and decided I wanted to use it.


End file.
